To all of you who might be touched by this entry, in advance, I beg you, forgive me. I don't often say what's actually in my mind, but tonight for some reason, I feel the need. Perhaps only for myself, but I can't really be sure of that. You see.. I feel like I'm running on empty. I've been awake since night before last and I'm just a little sleepy. Really. Forgive me.
I've diagnosed myself with Internal Tourette's Syndrome. According to dictionary.com, Tourette's syndrom is:
A severe neurological disorder characterized by multiple facial and other body tics, usually beginning in childhood or adolescence and often accompanied by grunts and compulsive utterances, as of interjections and obscenities. Also called Gilles de la Tourette syndrome.
I don't know folks, if I'm just internally odd spirited, or if everyone does this. I suppose I'm about to find out. I don't interject or offer compulsive obscenities... at least not out loud, but today I kept finding my inner voice rather rude and most exceptionally opinionated.
I got to the hospital this morning, and a gentleman opened not one door in the lobby, but both the outer lobby door, and the inside one for me. I don't know, maybe I looked worried, tired, or maybe I just wore the expression that challenged him.. "are you going to open that door or stand there and let me do it for you?" After holding them open for me, I smiled my thanks, and he looked at me expectantly for a moment and I stopped smiling and just stared at him, thinking "Well what the hell do you want from me now, for opening the door for me. A kidney?" Again, my oh so readable face must have said something to him because he stopped smiling and moved on.
I picked a chair where I could watch the door and see when Sarah's surgeon came out, away from the other 2 folks in the waiting area. Just me and my thoughts. I looked around, but there wasn't a book, magazine or newspaper anywhere. So I just clasped my hands and waited. And thought.
The pictures neatly lining the walls were crooked. That troubled me. For a moment I thought about going to straighten them, but then thought "Hell no, someone will just walk down that hall and reach out and tilt them all again."
A man walked towards the lobby, and the other fella sitting in the waiting area stopped talking with his (I assume it was his wife) and turned to him and loudly proclaimed, "I've been in Tennessee for the past 6 months!" Braggart.
The lady on the other side of the waiting room just sat there stonily silent, maybe she was dealing with a bout of Internal Tourette's Syndrom of her own, I don't know. I know that I liked her shoes. Good solid shoes, they looked like they fit just right over the ankle. I wished I had her shoes and she had the gumption to go straighten those crooked pictures hanging on the wall.
Another walk by. Again the Tennessee braggart smiled and called out to this long lost friend, "How ARE you! I've been in Tennessee for the past 6 months!!"
Good GOD man, now we all know where you've been the past 6 months, shut the hell up about it already, you're not there now, are you? You're right here in this waiting room in Kentucky with the rest of us, so just SHUT UP ABOUT IT ALREADY"
I got up and went and bought a newspaper. I read it slowly. Every article. I looked closely at every picture. Every ad. When I was finished, I folded it neatly, so neatly and put it back so carefully that one would even think it had been read at all. That used up about 30 minutes.
Mr. Tennessee was staring at me. His wife had gone to check on the patient they were waiting on and I just looked at my neatly folded paper, I didn't feel like small talk. I thought if I didn't make eye contact he'd just move on to the lady over on the other side. Wrong. Some men, are like cats. They are only interested in those who are absolutely NOT interested in them, whatsoever.
I've only known you for so short a time, yet, I know by that look on your face, you're going to tell me about having been in Tennessee for the past 6 months. Do I look even the slightest bit interested? No. I do not. Why? Because I'm NOT the slightest bit interested. That's why. So look away. Lean back on your seat and just look away.
Oh Juel, you're so mean, he's just worried about the patient. He's just wanting to make small talk. Pass the time. Don't be mean. Smile.
Smile my ass.
I studied my neatly folded paper more intently.
"You know, I've been having trouble with my sugar lately." He informed me.
Yeah well I can't keep it in the house, because Stan keeps using it to make ambrosia for the Humming Birds in the yard, and it pisses me off too, when I go to use some and it's all gone.
I knew full well what he meant, but this disease in me just kept spewing off (internally) the awfullest nonsense. However, I am not publically rude, nor afflicted as I am internally.
"Gosh, I'm sorry to hear that." My voice truly dripped with sympathy.
"It went down to 17 last night."
17. Think back. If Charlotte's had dropped to 17, that would mean.. she was dead. Go ahead, shoot him this look that says you're not stupid, that he'd have slipped into a coma at 17. You don't have a hair on your a...
You get the idea...
"Woah, what caused it to slip so low?" I couldn't believe my voice sounded so earnestly curious.
"We don't know. I've been to the doctors and we can't figure why. It went to 600 before I went to bed last night."
Yeah well I think you need a new meter, buddy.
"Would you like to read the paper?"
I thrust it at him before he could answer and went back to studying my clasped hands.
My son in law arrived. Our relationship of late is cordial at best. I'm sure he suffers this malady as well, but outwardly we were codial. I wont type what I was thinking, nor what I think he was thinking. We were there for Sarah. That's what counted. I give us credit for trying. I really do.
I'd been with her from the start. I waited alone, but for Mr. Tennessee and Miss Nice Shoes. 10 minutes before the doc comes out to say we could go see Sarah now, son in law comes in. HE gets to go in first. I stay back, wait my turn. Like a good mother in law. Like a good mother.
What the fuck's up with this? I was HERE all along, I waited. I listened to Mr. Tennessee. I stared at the crooked pictures on the wall. I'm the one who
sat here worrying and wondering if she was ok, while Miss Nice Shoes sat fermenting over in the corner. This just SUCKS!
Outwardly, I smile, lean back. The doc had said Sarah was okay. I could wait.
I went outside. Lit a cigarette. Called mom. Watched the cigarette turn to ash, then burn out. I went back in. Son in law was back in the lobby, this expression on his face...looking like.. he didn't know if he should say or not but..
"Is she okay?" I queried gently.
"Naw, no she's not okay at all, she's hurtin, she's mad, she's sayin' she's gonna get up, yank out the tubes from her arms and leave. She's really hateful."
My brows went up, what he was saying wasn't registering. Sarah? My Sarah who buffed her nails nonchalantly through the entire labor and bearing of 3 children?
I started to say something but he went on.. "She told me to get out. She told me to send in her mother, that her mother would make them give her something for the pain. She's in bad shape. Go on in, maybe you can calm her down."
Her doc walked past. He's the prettiest color. I think he's from the middle east, I'm not sure. He's chocolate. Not black, not brown, but the color of the purest Nestles chocolate.
I went on in to check on her. She was crying. My stomach started aching, my heart was aching, she was shivering, and I got her another blanket. She was trying to tell me how much it hurt. I told her what I've told her since she was first walking and would fall down and get a booboo.
"I wish it was me and not you. "
Liar. You damned liar, you do not. You do NOT wish that, she looks like she's ready to die of pain and you don't wish it was you at all. Liar!
About that time, the nurse showed up with her pain meds. My wicked thoughts went on.
Cool. Now it looks like my mere presence caused them to bring her something for pain. I'll get the credit for it. Very way cool!
Ten minutes later the pain was still there. She was crying and her eyes looked like her soul was knocking on them, begging to get out. It scared me.
"Honey, you can bear this. Focus on something on the ceiling. Take deep breaths, think, next week this will just be a bad memory..."
Good God above you look like you're gonna turn inside out, I don't know if you're ever gonna get over this. I bet you will never look at your husband the same way again. I bet you'll just want to grab hold of the family jewels after this and just squeeze until his eyeballs pop! You'll never be the same!
After it was over, they released her and I made it home, I sat for a time, contemplating this nasty inner voice. I'm worried about me. My belief is that at the end of our time, we're judged not entirely by what we do, or the choices we make, or how good we behave, but too, by what's in our hearts.
I...am...so...screwed.
I used to think my reward would be something close to cleaning out the stalls. After today, I'm sure that if I get to heaven, I'm going to be doing something even less desirable.
Dammit I can't help the way I'm made inside. It's NOT my fault. If you wanted me to be all sugary sweet you shoulda made me that way, not judge me harshly for making me the way you made me.
Oh Lord, Juel, shut up, you just don't know when to quit!
This isn't over. There's much MUCH more in here. The only reason I'm not thinking it right now is because mom's rushing me to finish so she can read it. But oh yes, there's MUCH MUCH MORE.
Posted by juel at October 21, 2005 10:26 PM